The tale of the Genie who lost her lamp has been told as a bedtime story for kids for a long time.
The story narrates, that the Genie was beautiful. Her last master fell in deeply love with her, asking her to become his wife. The genie didn't feel...
He felt acid run up his throat, burning. He slapped a hand over his mouth, almost about to vomit. He gripped his clothes, his knuckles turning white from the strain. Slowly, the burning sensation faded and his hand dropped away from his mouth. Cold sweat dotted his pale forehead abs he dabbed at it with his sleeve. A strangled moan left his dry lips. Ali fell back against the wall, holding onto it for dear life.
He pressed his forehead against the cool wall, hoping to stop the tremors shaking him.
Ali had killed people. Not a small number of bodies littered his wandering past, but he had always had the intention and his brain had ordered his body to move, consciously. Now, one of the few things which had always been in his control had disobeyed him.
The air around him felt heavy. It squashed against his throat, blocking the oxygen. Ali gripped the door handle and yanked it open, escaping the death tainted room. He closed the room behind him, pressing his cold forehead against the window. He was shivering, his hand clutching the handle. He stayed still for a few more moments, before he slowly pulled away from the door.
"Idris," he murmured. "Need to find her." Ali held onto the wall, using it to keep walking, his legs too unstable to stand on their own.
The hallways all looked the same, and seemed to start swirling into one big corridor. The air was colder than before; probably his sweat drenched body cooling in the slightly chilly night air.
Sounds were starting to hurt his sensitive ears, making him become even more dizzy. Just the soft pants of his own breath felt like two pans being smacked against his ears. Ali tripped over his feet, his hand slithering away from the wall as he dropped down to his knees, darkness enveloping his view.
As he lay on the floor, shivering in fear and the futile effort to stand up, he heard some light steps coming towards him. In vain, Ali tried to push himself up, scrambling to hide himself, but he lost his weak grip on the wall and tumbled back down on the ground.
He laid still, trembling, not sure if from before, or from the fear of being discovered.
The steps came closer.
A warm hand settled on his shoulder, yanking him up. "What are you doing, lying there on the floor!" She whispered, starting to slap his shirt, trying to get the dirt away.
Ali's mind whirred to a stop. The heartbeat in his ears started to diminish. "Idris?" He stuttered, his sight slowly returning to him. She was standing in front of him, still dressed in the bridal clothing. Her face veil had been discarded, but another still covered her hair. His eyes started running down her body, checking for any injury, or signs she had been forced. Fury swirled in his mind, his fear melting. Just the sight of her glimmering eyes made him calm down.
"He didn't touch you, did he?" Ali snarled, placing his hand on her chin and glancing at her face.
Idris shook her head. "No. I would have broken every single finger on both his hands." Her eyes sparkled, and Ali knew she would have kept that promise.
"Then how did you get out? Did you kill him?"
"No. He's sleeping. And probably will be until after tomorrow." Idris grinned, proud. Her face suddenly became serious. She asked, "Did you find any information about the genie's lamp?" She asked.
Voices started drifting from the end of the hallway, and Idris grabbed his arm, yanking him to a hidden passage. It was so small that Ali was pressed against Idris. He leaned both arms on either side of her head to decrease the pressure on her.
They stood silent, chests heaving together as the voices of the guards passed by them, laughing about a lewd joke.
"So, did you?" Idris asked once more.
Ali nodded. "I did. A guard,"—Idris gripped his shirt and yanked him closer, not being able to hear him. Ali almost completely crushed her, his face now resting against her cheek. He felt his cheeks heat up for a moment before he contained. "A guard, a drunk one to be precise, told me where to find the treasury. I suspect he keeps the lamp there as well."
Ali watched as Idris' eyes started dancing around the small alleyway, following a path to a plan only visible to her mind. She mumbled quiet words underneath her breath.
Ali gazed at her lips, plump and soft. They grazed his ear as she murmured to herself. His half-lidded eyes couldn't stop looking at them. The desire to kiss her burned warm in his stomach, too hot to ignore. His hand dropped from the wall to her arm, leaning down to press his lips against hers.
"Idris," Ali whispered, starting to close his eyes.
"Where did they say the treasury was?" Idris asked, looking up at Ali, too concentrated to notice her companion had been about to kiss her.
Ali opened his eyes, the desire still burning bright in his stomach, but the realization of what he had been about to do dropped on his shoulders. He abruptly pulled back, shame and humiliation painting his voice as he answered. "The treasury? Um..." Ali started racking his muddled brain, trying to erase the images of Idris' lips and trying to find the information that was needed. His arm was still on her arm, he yanked it back, as if burnt.
"Somewhere on the second floor," he said, pulling back.
"Perfect." Her eyes glimmered. "Let's go." Idris grabbed his wrist and yanked him out of the alleyway, while Ali was still drunk on her intoxicating scent.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
